How it Began
by Aud17
Summary: One-shot. Quirky story about how Santana first met her new neighbor, Brittany.


**I do not own Glee or any characters mentioned.**

Here we were, mamá and I, eating dinner alone because papá had to work late…again. Sometimes I feel like he doesn't even want to come home anymore. Was it something I did? I mean, I know I got a B+ in History and I could have done better, but he couldn't be _that_ mad at me, right?

The sudden noise of a chair being pushed out and my mamá getting up from the table brought me back from my thoughts. She started cleaning up the dishes from dinner and bringing them to the kitchen, mine included.

"Alright, I guess I was done eating, too..?" I say and I get up and carry the fork I was using to the kitchen.

She didn't hear me. Even if she did, she wouldn't say anything. She never really talks to me anymore, to anyone for that matter. I try to talk to her; to share stories from my day at school, but she never seems interested. She always replies in the same monotone voice, with the same responses. "Very good, Santana." and "That's nice, Santana." It makes me wonder why I even bother. I'm not stupid; I know that papá comes home late and drunk more often than not. I hear the constant yelling and door slamming that happens pretty much every night he bothers to even come home. I can see that it's hurting her and that she's upset. But does she see that it hurts me, too? I feel like if we don't at least stick together, than he ruins everything. I'm already losing him; I don't want to lose her, too.

As I walk into the kitchen I can see her putting away the clean dishes and getting ready to put the dirty ones in the dishwasher.

"Do you need help, mamá?"

She sighs, "No mija, but thank you."

"Why don't you rinse and I load? It can be like old times! Just don't splash me with water this time." I laugh as those old memories about cleaning up with my mamá after dinner come back to me. But she doesn't respond or laugh along. She just keeps putting the dishes away.

I spin around as I hear the door open. Out of the corner of my eye I can see my mamá is completely still. Is she even breathing? I am even breathing? I let go of the breath I was unknowingly holding. Before I realize it, my papá is standing in front of me.

"What? No dinner for me? Figures. I pay for the food in this house, the pots and pans to cook it in, the utensils to eat it with, but I don't get any." He puffs out a breath and I can immediately smell scotch. Glaring at my mamá, he raises his arm, still holding his suitcase, and pushes me out of the way. He sets his suitcase right on the counter and stands silently behind my mamá.

"Well, if you got home on time, you would have been able to have dinner with your daughter and I at the table like a family should."

And so it starts.

The yelling. The name-calling. Pointing fingers at each other.

It's times like these that I'm glad our neighbors don't speak Spanish. That way, they can never understand all what is said during these frequent arguments. I mean, they obviously know that my parents are fighting, but at least they can't understand them to know what it's about.

I start to walk up the stairs to my room. There's no use trying to stop them. The last time I tried to intervene, my papá grabbed my arm and threw me out of the room yelling, "_Leave, child!" _in Spanish. Ever since then I just go to my room, shut the door, and stuff a towel along the bottom so the sound of my parents fighting is muffled.

Once I got the towel secured in place, I walked over to my window and opened it to let the warm summer breeze in. Then, I walked over to my desk, plugged my iPod and grabbed the book I was in the middle of reading. The movie was coming out at the end of summer and I want to finish it before I go and see it. About a half an hour into reading, I was lost in the book, and the music helped drown out what was being said downstairs, but it didn't help the noise that was happening outside my window. I tried to ignore it at first. I heard a couple meows here and there, so I brushed it off as just a pesky animal looking for something to eat. But when I heard what sounded like a person whispering, I walked over and leaned outside my window. I saw the garbage cans move and what seemed to be a shadow of a person.

I decided to walk downstairs and figure out what was happening because this is the most interesting thing to happen during my summer break yet. Let's face it, it's Lima Ohio.. nothing interesting happens here.

I shut off my music, removed the towel, and opened the door. I was half expecting to hear my parents still fighting in the kitchen, but when I got down there, my mamá was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands and the front door was wide open. I walked over and shut the door, then went to the kitchen to try and piece together what happened.

"Mamá? Are you ok? Where's papá?" She didn't look up at me; she barely even acknowledged I was there.

"He left about 15 minutes ago." She said, and then mumbled something in Spanish under her breath.

"And before you ask, no, I don't know where he went, and no, I don't know when he will be back."

I wasn't going to try and ask, but hey, at least that's out of the way. Figuring the wasn't much more to say, I made my way downstairs to the garage door that leads out to where we keep our garbage cans. I was wondering if the mystery person was still there, maybe I missed them. Hopefully not, or else this would be a pretty uneventful trip. When I reached the door, I saw a broom out of the corner of my eye and decided to take it for.. well, I don't why I decided a broom would be my best defense against _whatever _is out there, but I did so I took it. I slowly opened the door, trying not to scare away what could be there. When I peeked my head around, the garbage bags that have yet to be put in the cans were moving around.

"H-hello? Who's there? I can see the bags moving. Just get out of there and leave! There's nothing good in there for you!"

Just as I was about to step out from behind the door and yell at whatever or whoever was there again, a girl with a disheveled blonde bun on the top of her head popped up and scared the crap out of me. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and her cheeks were a light shade of pink. She eyed the broom in my hands that I was now holding in the defensive position like I was bracing myself for a fight. Both of us stared at each other for what felt like a good solid 5 minutes, our chests heaving because we were scared.

"HI! I, uh, I'm sorry. I was outside talking to my cat when he got mad at me for taking away his cigarettes and darted across the street and into your trash." She says to me. Then, she looks down at the trash with her eyebrows furrowed. "I bet he is trying to find a new place for his gang to play poker on Saturday nights" she whispers to no one in particular. "Seriously, Lord Tubbington! Come out of there! I told you, no more poker nights! No more gangs! This has gotten _out of control!_"

Completely caught off guard by all what was happening right now, the only words I could get out were, "Lord who?"

She looks back up at me. _Holy shit._

"Lord Tubbington. My cat!" She answers like it was the most normal thing on the universe. "He's kind of crazy, always getting into things. Cigarettes, candy, my diary, you name it, he's been in it!"

"Wait, hold up. Your cat smokes, eats candy, and steals your diary?" What is even going on right now? I must've fallen asleep or something. I've never even seen this girl before and now here she is, digging through my garbage looking for her maniac cat. But, even if this is a dream, nobody better wake me up anytime soon because this girl is all kinds of pretty.

"He doesn't actually _steal_ my diary; He just reads it and puts it back so I won't notice." She says to me and then looks down at the garbage, "But I _do _notice, Lord Tubbington! I do!"

What on Earth? The cat can _read?_ All right, at this point I've heard enough and I have to see this thing. I start to pick up the bags and put them in the cans to try and find this cat. The mystery girl follows suit and starts to pick up bags, too. Wait, what's her name?

After about three or four bags, _something_ that I wouldn't even categorize as a cat came sauntering out and meowed at me like_ I _was intruding on _his _property. Of course, not knowing what the heck I was dealing with, I screamed.

"Ay dios mio! The heck was that thing! That was most definitely _not_ a cat! It has to weigh about 400 pounds!"

"Stop it! He's sensitive about his weight. We're trying to get him on a diet but he is just so stubborn!" she explains and with a huff she yells to him, "Lord Tubbington! We are having a discussion about this when we get back home!" The cat scurried, or at least tried to, across the street back to the house opposite mine.

"I'm really sorry about this, again. I just don't know what to do with him sometimes." She looks back to me, "I'm Brittany by the way! What's your name?"

"Santana, I haven't seen you around befo-"

"Santana," she ponders, "That's a really pretty name! I just moved here from Michigan, right across the street actually! Maybe we could hang out this summer! I don't really have any friends here yet; you're the first person I've met. Well, unless you count the ice cream man that came by earlier today, but I don't know his name, plus he didn't seem too friendly. I tried to ask him if he made the ice cream in his truck, or if he made it somewhere else. Oh my gosh, what if he has like this secret lair where little magical creatures make the ice cream and-"

Halfway through Brittany talking I zoned out. All I could do was stare into those ocean blue eyes. She was just so pretty, like the prettiest girl I think I've ever seen. Did she say she moved across the street? I wonder if she's my age? Will she go to school with me next year? I wonder if she will try out to be a Cheerio with me? Wow she probably would look really good in a uniform-

"So, do you want to, Santana?"

"Hm? Wait, what? I'm sorry." I felt my cheeks redden. Thank God for having a darker skin complex.

"Do you want to go hang out tomorrow? I saw a park not too far from our houses. I would stay here and talk with you but it's getting dark and I bet my mom is wondering where I am. Plus, I have to have a talk with Lord Tubbington about what happened tonight. Although, I'm not that mad anymore. I mean, I got to meet you!" Brittany smiled. I couldn't help but blush and smile back.

"The park sounds great, Brittany. What time do you want to meet up?"

"Here," she hands me her phone, "put your number in and I'll text you! Want to go around 10?"

"Sure, 10 sounds great." I reply while typing in my number. I hand her phone back to her, "See you tomorrow morning, I guess!" I don't know why I feel so awkward right now. Come on, Lopez! Quit it!

She takes her phone back, and our fingers brush. I feel my cheeks heat up again as I look away.

"Alright, see ya tomorrow, San!" she says and smiles.

San? I hate nicknames, but that sounded so nice coming from her. She had already turned around and was walking back to her house. I couldn't help but stare.

I try and find my voice to respond, and all that came out was a soft almost whisper, "See ya tomorrow, Brittany." Then, I grabbed my trusty broom and walked back into the house with a huge grin on my face. I feel my phone bus with a text message from an unknown number.

_Santana Lopez…. I like it. _

She put a smiley face at the end, which is funny because now I have a permanent one plastered on my face.

/

**Hi! I hope you liked this! I've never written a story before, so if you would like to leave some constructive criticism it would be greatly appreciated. I just decided to write a story about Santana and Brittany because how could you not love them together?**

**Sorry about any spelling or grammatical errors, totally my fault.**


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